my only muse ﹒ 5
sypnosis ﹕ you’re mark’s classmate and you’re both english majors. mark makes music on the side and posts it on soundcloud and he asks you to promote it, but it genuinely sucks a— it’s.. interesting.
genre + ﹕ social media au f!reader, humour, fluff, college au, mark + y/n are both english majors, mark is a loser, bsfs!karina ryujin yunjin yangyang & xiaojun
wc ﹕ 1.4k
masterlist + comment/msg me to be added to the taglist
taglist ✦ @replayenthusiast @jeongintwt
the crisp end of winter and soon to be spring air tickles your cheeks, making your ears cold and your hands colder. there’s a book bag slung over your shoulder, slightly swaying as you pace the campus halls to make it to your first lecture of the day.
the bustling atmosphere makes it nearly impossible to get around it, but after having to walk this route many times, you’ve grown accustomed to the path you need to take in order to make it to class on time. the sounds of students engaging hits your ears as your shoes pat against the floor, your subconscious picking up bits and pieces of conversations as you make your way towards your composition writing class.
the first thing you do when you make it to the door is poke your head inside, scanning the few students who have decided to show up as early as you. there’s no sight of mark yet, which makes you let out an internal sigh of relief. this meant he wouldn’t have a chance to make conversation before the class starts, and you could sit away from him and dart out of the room as soon as the lecture ends.
“y/n?” a voice from behind you makes you flinch, grasping at your chest as your heart races within it. you immediately snap your head to the owner of the voice behind you, your stomach dropping when you recognize the same korean boy who’s music is terrible.
“oh, hey mark,” you greet him, attempting to be as casual and not awkward as possible. you can feel your heart rate beginning to slow after the short scare, your hands coming back to your sides. “you scared me.”
the brown haired korean-canadian looks at you with a smile, his fingers around his black backpack straps as he raises his eyebrow. his figure is adorned with a pair of black basketball shorts and a dark blue hoodie, something along the lines of clothes he wears nearly everyday. his glasses sit comfortably on his nose bridge, the silver frames complimenting his brown eyes.
“sorry dude, didn’t mean to scare you,” mark apologizes, reaching out and giving your shoulder a slight pat. “wanna head inside and sit together? i can show you what i’ve been working on.”
the dreadful question escapes from mark’s lips, making you unexcited for what’s to come. you don’t want to outright insult mark, even more so because you two sit on the title of mere acquaintances, so you settle for smiling and nodding your head. “yeah, sure. class doesn’t start for another.. fifteen minutes.”
mark’s face lights up pleasantly, his body stepping out of the way for you to enter the lecture hall. he gestures his arms forward, maintaining a good amount of personal space. “after you, then.”
you nod your head once to signify a thank you, walking into the high ceiling and large classroom with mark following behind you. there’s still an awkwardness that sits in the air, and you’re unsure if mark can sense it, or if it’s just all in your head. you’ve never spoken to mark on a friendly level, only interacting when needed, in terms of joint assignments or homework assistance.
you and mark end up sitting near the back of the class, the sunlight casting a soft glow from the windows behind you two. you sigh, setting down your book bag underneath your desk, and begin getting yourself sorted. you pray that mark will wait until after class to decide to show you his ‘music’, so that you could devise a plan to sneakily escape before he gets the chance to.
but, instead of your prayers being answered, you’re met with the devil’s wrath as mark nudges you lightly on the arm. your head slowly turns in his direction, trying to control your facial muscles to keep your smile from dropping as your eyes flick to the airpod he holds out in one of his hands. his expression is alike to that of a child showing their mother a badly drawn sketch, full of excitement and awaiting praise as he offers you the airpod.
“oh, thanks,” you manage to say in a sweet voice, your fingers lightly grazing mark’s warm palm as you take the item from his grasp. you watch as he loads up his laptop, opening up what looks like a professional music making app. as to how mark makes shit music with such great resources, you still remain clueless. you place the airpod in your ear, hoping to god that this doesn’t destroy your ear drums.
“just let me know if it’s too loud, i’ll turn it down for you,” mark grins, leaning back in his chair as his finger hovers over the space bar. he presses play, then turns to you, watching your reaction with an eager expression.
mark’s definition of kpop music is not for the faint of heart. your eyebrows subconsciously furrow together as the horrible tunes begin to sound, but you try to remain as positive as possible. your eyes keep focus on mark’s laptop screen, afraid that if you lock gazes with mark, he’ll be able to tell how much you dislike the song he’s made for you. you can’t even tell what instruments are being played, and his singing is nearly inaudible with the poor mixing of the audio.
you would have to figure out how to tell mark you weren’t going to promote his music on your twitter account, which leaves a slight feeling of guilt weighing on your shoulders; especially because you can tell the boy is working hard to make music that better suits the theme of your social media.
tired and somehow annoyed with the song echoing in your skull, you reach out to pause the music with a swift motion. mark still seems oblivious to your disdain for his music, still gazing at you with that same excited grin. you have to resist the urge to rub your temples and sigh, instead opting into giving him a closed lipped smile while letting out an awkward chuckle.
“so,” mark leans forward in his seat, making your neck and cheeks heat up due to sheer second hand embarrassment. “what do you think? good enough to post? i’m open to constructive criticism.”
you pause, trying to find the correct words that won’t hurt mark’s feelings. you do think he has potential, since he has a good voice (underneath the aggressive autotune) and a strong passion for music, but you’re unsure of how to tell him that this song he made is hot trash. “no.. um.. not quite..”
you make sure to avoid mark’s eyes, not wanting to see whether or not he has a disappointed expression. you rub the back of your neck, keeping your eyebrows scrunched up as you continue to rack your brain for the correct wording to use.
“oh yeah? what do you think i should change?” mark’s voice perks up, and you’re slightly baffled by his unwavering tone. he still seems excited, and thankfully, not upset over the fact that you deemed his work as ‘not good enough to post’.
“i’m not like.. an expert on music making or anything, but i think you should balance out your voice and the instrumental,” you admit, finally meeting mark’s brown orbs as you turn to him. he nods his head, listening intently to your advice as you continue speaking. “and maybe stick to one consecutive theme and pace..? i think that’ll help you improve.”
mark jots down your notes on his laptop, typing them up and highlighting some of your words. you let out an internal sigh of relief, grateful that mark is truly taking this as constructive criticism. he seems open minded, and not one to argue if someone is genuinely trying to help him get better at what he enjoys doing.
“wow dude, thank you so much,” mark smiles, turning back to you with a glint of elation in his eyes. “i like when people tell me what i’m doing wrong. it helps me a lot. i’ll make sure to do better and make a good song for you.”
for some reason, with mark’s words echoing in your brain, your heart swells. it may be because of the fact that he’s a good looking guy writing you a song (although it’s nothing personal), but a part of you views it as endearing. you’re still unsure of whether or not you’ll actually promote his music on your twitter account, but you’re still glad you were able to help him in any meaningful sort of way.
94 notes
·
View notes
This is one of my favorite minor details in Dungeon Meshi, firstly because what in the femme fatale, but also because it's one of those little things that raises so many questions about worldbuilding.
The Occam's Razor defense attorney in me says that Ryoko Kui gave Kabru a boot knife because she wanted him to escape from his bonds here. And Kabru is a very competent swordsman, why wouldn't he have a boot knife, sure. He's already got a dagger, he can have this too.
And yet: the implications. Kabru, why do you have that? That is not remotely something that could be easily accessed or used in combat. Nobody is pulling out a pen knife from the heel of their boot during a fight with a monster. It's useless in the dungeon ... unless you're the type of person who isn't just worried about monsters.
I've mentioned this before, but I consider one of Kabru's functions in the narrative as being the character who fully brings the idea of human ecosystems into the story. There's a reason why he's always connected to large groups of people (Toshiro's party, the Canaries). He (along with Mr. Tansu, briefly) introduces the reader to the social and political forces working on the dungeon, showing us that none of this is happening in a monster-filled vacuum. His confrontation with the corpse retrievers, who very nearly kill Kabru's party permanently with their reckless murder-for-money scheme, reminds us that monsters are not the only things that prey on humans. Kabru understands the ways the dungeon causes people to put profit over human lives.
We only get hints of it in the story, but like any gold-rush-style economic boom, it's implied that there is a lot of crime and corruption surrounding the dungeon.
So yeah, it really makes me wonder why Kabru keeps a tiny knife in his boot, meant to be carried on him even in situations where he would otherwise be unarmed. Stored exactly in the place where it's easy to reach, even if, for some reason, your hands are tied behind your back.
2K notes
·
View notes
To put it lightly, Kaveh is incensed.
Sat at the dining room table, seething with a tick to his square jaw, all of his thoughts scrambling for some semblance of purchase.
Just who do you think you are? How did you find out about his debt, and more importantly, why did you pay it off in its entirety for no good reason? Most importantly, who are you? Taking the moral high ground by wiping all of his financial troubles clean anonymously is...
...is a wonderful thing. He's so grateful that there are tears in his eyes as he fights the urge to stand up from his mandated breather to hunt you down himself. If you know about his issues, who's to say that you don't know about his living situation too? He'd been so careful - well, save for the time he'd gotten a little tipsy and blabbed to the whole tavern - but that's neither here nor there!
But what is he supposed to do, really? His hands are idle, and no work is getting done because for once he doesn't have to crunch any commissions. There's nothing to pay off, nothing glaring to make up for because that's all he's been doing for years and years. Running in circles, dragging his own feet - so much so that he truly thought he was fated to be miserable. He can breathe a bit easier, and he actually tastes the humidity seeping into the house.
You are horribly audacious, but Kaveh can't even express it because you are philanthropic to boot. It's humiliating, thinking of himself as a charity case, even if it's true; he lives rent-free in his sort-of-friend's home, hanging off of Alhaitham's back like a leech, struggling to find work that he actually likes. But now? Now there is one less monumental burden obscuring his creative vision for the future.
Archons. He's crying, wiping away the beading tears with his coarse palms. Kaveh can't even thank you or give you anything in return. He knows it's petty to be bitter about a miracle such as this - so many have it worse and hope for this everyday - but it stings. It stings like a scorpion, venom spreading slowly to every limb before lulling him into a delirious fever dream. It stings because he couldn't pull himself out of the mess that he made.
He rises from his chair with a vengeance before realizing how silly he looks with his hackles raised. He has to do something... try to track you down, maybe. He could try to get some more information out of Dori, narrow down the list of suspects. Yes, that's what he'll do next.
The logistics of this plan contribute to Kaveh's (oddly painless) headache that he's nursing. It's too late in the day to interrogate anyone right now, though it doesn't stop him from imagining doing so as he goes about doing pointless chores to keep himself occupied. The dishes are surely going to get scuffed with the force of his scrubbing... sometimes he forgets he slings a claymore around.
What will he say when he finds you? He could try and convince you to ask for a refund, if that's even possible. Surely your sizable wealth could be put to use somewhere better - an actual noble cause, perhaps. If that doesn't work, he could always do some work for you off the books. That's what got him into this mess, after all - passion and his craft and whatever else other scholars would turn their noses up at.
Would you even accept his service? It's the least he could do. Kaveh's mind can't help but conjure up all sorts of ideas of what you might be like, images of foreign dignitaries on vacation to juggernauts of old money flashing before him. No matter, he'll pay you back no matter what.
Before he truly he goes to bed that night, Kaveh is struck by the epiphany that debt truly controls his life. If he is not in Dori's, he is in Alhaitham's. If he is not in Alhaitham's, he's in yours - whoever you may be. No kindness offered to him will ever belay the guilty bite of his lip, but only worsen how deep he drives his teeth in. As always, he pushes that thought deep down into the recesses of his mind.
Instead of acknowledging that he is cruel to himself, he will paint you as the cruel one.
It's what he does best, artist that he is.
227 notes
·
View notes
Thinking about band au wangxian where their "gimmick" on stage is extremely sexually charged flirting like I'm talking wwx straight up grinding against lwj in the middle of his solo or they stare directly into each other's eyes everytime a song mentions love or sex
Except they haven't confirmed their relationship so like half the fans are diehard shippers screaming while the other half think it's a fake publicity stunt and point out all the bts vids where they look like they hate each other and argue constantly
Neither of them mention their relationships in interview, always redirecting questions back to the music or their advocacy and so for years it just goes on like this.
They're the most popular band in the world when suddenly they go on a long, three year hiatus.
And so everyone thinks oh gosh maybe they were together but they broke up and their tears are heard around the world.
Then they have a comeback tour and reveal all: of course, the hiatus was because they got married and adopted a son.
They drop this randomly in the middle of a set btw, Wei Wuxian just smirks at the audience and says "this is for my husband and our son" and then he winks and blows a kiss at Lan Wangji who catches it with all the seriousness in the world and presses it against his chest
Later on, the band's Instagram posts a photo of wangxian with their backs turned, each holding the hand of a little boy wearing little bunny eared headphones between them, as they all walk put of the venue
588 notes
·
View notes